The Diary of Seras Victoria
by Astrid W
Summary: Chronicling her life as she faces psychopathic master-fathers, deranged neighbors and one Pip Bernadotte a month before prom. High School AU; rated to be safe. PxS and AxI


Author's Note: Hi everyone! I'm new to fanfiction, but I've recently become so obsessed with Hellsing that I just couldn't resist writing one. It's my first fic (and an AU lol), so please be gentle!

A few minor things (I know they're screwed up):

Seras - 15

Walter - 15

Pip - 17

Yumie and Heinkel - 15 and 17

Maxwell - 14

Anyway, hope you enjoy! Please review and tell me what you think too!

Disclaimer for whole story: All Hellsing characters were created by Kouta Hirano

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**The Diary of Seras Victoria**

**April 17: Sunday**

So Mrs. Higgins came to 'visit' today. I say 'visit' in quotes because that's what Master calls it. Truthfully, she was just here to try to get me taken away by social services for like the thousandth time.

I mean she was literally _sniffing_ our doorframe like a bloodhound, while Master kept her loitering out there for twenty minutes, pretending we weren't home.

I had to shovel this old thing out from the recesses of my closet just to do one of those show-the-person-you're-using-their-gift things. Although Mrs. Higgins sure fell for it. She was pinching my cheeks and petting my hair and doing a sort of weird 'grunt-snort' sound of approval (Master was in the kitchen, 'getting tea,' and trying to muffle his hysterical hyena laughter, while I courageously suffered through it).

After the horrific agony passed, she proceeded to read _over my shoulder _as I wrote random things down about 'how safe and hazard-free our electric stoves are' and 'the lack of mildew on our walls' and 'the wonderful talks Master and I have about our feelings every evening.'

I ripped that page right out of here once she left and have since shredded and burned the remains. Master told me I was stupid for that because now I'll have to waste another page writing nonsense next time she 'visited,' but whatever.

After spending so much time writing in one, I actually kind of want to try out a journal and I don't need that page in there reminding me of my awkward life.

Anyway, I guess the first thing I should do for posterity's sake, or when this journal is uncovered from the Earth's crust in the year 3022, is explain who the heck Master is. In short, he's my dad.

Yeah I know, a little messed up right?

Apparently, this all started when I was around four or five and Master for whatever reason, decided Dracula would be a perfect bedtime story. According to him, he read it so many times that I started calling him "Master," like Renfield did to the Count, and it kind of just stuck. I'm still having trouble dealing with the fact that out of everyone in that book I identified best with _Renfield, _but I digress.

Since I had a nickname for him, Master insisted on a nickname for me, or it wouldn't be fair. How does that make sense? Because he's psychotic on his best days.

He then proceeded to put zero effort into coming up with a decent name. I was dubbed "police girl" eventually for dressing as one _once _for Halloween, which I guess was the first thing that popped into his head.

So now we're Master and police girl, and if it weren't for the rest of society I'm pretty sure we would've forgotten who Alucard and Seras even were. I'm beyond paranoid about calling him that in public though—nearly the whole block is suspicious of us already.

Oh, great, speaking of which, I can hear Master shuffling around, getting ready for work. I'm still not sure what he does for his job, just that it involves the government and two _gigantic-ass _guns named Casull and Jackal. Sometimes, he'll go out with them tucked into his freaking pockets and return with the widest_, most satisfied_ look on his face (I try to avoid him on those nights). And other times, like tonight, he'll slink into the basement and…dissect rabbits or something (I _never _go down there). It

Bollocks, he's heading down the stairs. I now have exactly 52.4 seconds to fall asleep.

**April 17 still, probably heading into April 18**

Well, so much for sleep tonight.

See, unlike normal homicidal sociopaths, Master enjoys a bit of melodramatic background music when in the middle of committing morally depraved acts, i.e., I've been hearing German death metal blast up through the vents for the past two hours.

It's astounding the cops haven't been called on us even once yet. You'd think we were hosting ritual sacrifices with the kind of noises coming from this house. Not that our neighbors don't think we're freaks anyway.

Ugh, I'm so tired, school is going to be a wreck tomorrow. MASTER, TURN IT DOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWNNNNNNNNN

**April 18: Monday**

As I thought, today was horrible. I missed the bus, because I overslept and had to bike to school on this barely functioning contraption that felt like it was going to collapse underneath me.

Unsurprisingly, I was late to first period and missed a pop quiz, so that's a big fat zero against my already ailing grade. Maths and I are not chums.

Then during a particularly life-draining lecture about cell mitosis in second period, I just plain fell asleep and got detention for engaging in a natural, _biological _process of the body.

Bright side though, Walter got detention too for getting into another fight with Maxwell. For some reason, he has this completely out-of-the-blue hatred for Walter's mum, Ms. Integra, and called her a "protestant sow" this time. I cringe at how badly Walter wiped the floor with him for it (there was apparently some intense sobbing from Maxwell). He's lucky he didn't get expelled, but at least I got a detention buddy out of the whole thing!

We spent lunch ranting about our respective situations and I found out Walter hadn't gotten much sleep either, since his mum was screaming into the phone all night. Ms. Integra's also in the government, only she works in Intelligence and Master works in…something else. Probably Assassination.

I asked Walter if it was possible that she'd gotten a call from an ex or something and he stared at me like I was crazy. Apparently, the last time his mum was with _anyone _was when Walter was born, and that was only for a year before she'd kicked his dad to the curb for being a drunken failure.

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I kind of just awkwardly picked the crust off my PB&J.

After like four minutes of quiet, the Iscariot kids burst into the cafeteria, dispersing everyone else like the Red Sea. Heinkel and Yumie came stomping over to our table, ready to avenge their little brother's humiliating defeat. Heinkel was yelling threats at both (?!) of us for being bullies, while Yumie kept tapping her fingers across the handle of her kendo sword (how she's allowed to bring that I will never know).

Since all we had between the two of us for weapons was a plastic lunch tray and Monday's mystery meat, I was getting real bloody nervous that another fight was going to break out.

Luckily, Walter didn't seem inclined to even rise from his seat. Not-so-luckily, it seemed to piss them off more. The entire conversation went a little along this vein:

Heinkel: Grrr, you hurt Enrico! We're going to beat the snot out of you! Get up and fight us!

Yumie: Fiiighhhtttt…

Heinkel: Fight us!

Yumie: Fight us!

H and Y: FIGHT USSSSS!

Walter: …No.

They looked like they were about to upend the table in frustration, when Pip, of all people, showed up to defuse the moment. He—ugh, I'm sorry, I think I need to go on a quick tangent.

Pip Bernadotte. Captain of the Wild Geese football club. Words can barely describe what I feel for this guy. For starters, he's overwhelmingly cocky and pig-headed and seems to think that being French means he has to hook up with every girl in the school at least once. He's also groped me more times than I'd like to count and I'm about _this _close to kicking in his balls.

Second, he's annoyingly handsome.

End tangent.

So Pip came in between Heinkel and Yumie all suave and 'mademoiselle'-ing and wrapped his arms around both their shoulders. Heinkel gave him a look like she was being touched by dog vomit, but Yumie suddenly started blushing and stuttering nervously.

It's no secret that she likes him. I don't know why they don't just date and get it over with. She is so incredibly bipolar, it blows my mind.

But Pip pulled her closer, nearly nose-nuzzling with her in front of all of us and the whole thing seemed to derail from there to me, but here's how it went.

Pip: My dear little cheries, don't you zink this violence iz much too unpleazant for lovely flowerz such as yourzelves?

Yumie: U-Um…

Heinkel: The f-ck does this have to do with you?

Yumie: No Heinkel, C…Captain B-Bernadotte is right…we shouldn't be fighting in school…

Heinkel: WTF?! _You're _the one who wanted to do this!

Somehow in the end, Yumie convinced Heinkel to leave and blushed like a swollen tomato when Pip blew this loud kiss at her. After they left and every person in the cafeteria stopped staring, he turned to grin at us. Walter grinned back, because they're friends and I scowled, because everything about him bothered me on a microscopic level.

"Thanks for that," Walter said, all amiable and serene, "I don't like to hit girls."

Pip chuckled and just sat down _completely uninvited_!

"Not a problem, mon ami," he replied, smiling at me for whatever stupid reason, "Heard Maxie crying from acroz ze building zis morning by ze way. I'm guezzing that waz you?"

Walter continued smiling. "Yes, he called my mother a sow."

I cringed slightly. Walter can be very blunt sometimes. Pip whistled in appreciation, shaking his head.

"The little bastard asked for it, I zuppose," he said, still giving me that perverted, about-to-cop-a-feel look, "But those zisters of hiz are magnifique, no?"

Admittedly, I got a _tad _irritated and snapped, "What are you even doing here, Pip?"

Walter stared at me for my random outburst, but Pip smirked. It was irritating how nice it looked on him.

"Why in such a bad mood, mignonette?" he asked, and stole one of my shredded pieces of bread, "How are you going to get a date to the prom talking like zat?"

Oh, I could not believe he said that.

"First of all, I told you not to call me that," I replied, rather calmly I feel for having wanted to wring his neck, "Second, the prom is for seniors, so why the hell would I need a date for it anyway?"

Then he got this really weird and serious look on his face and dropped my mutilated sandwich.

"So…you're saying zat no one haz asked you yet?"

You know how you always see lines in books like 'he saw nothing but red' or 'red leaked pass his vision' when someone's been pushed over the edge? You know how it's suppose to be a metaphor?

It's not.

I honestly saw only red for several seconds. How. Dare. He? For such a damn player, he has no tact at all! I was about to go ape-shit on him right there in the school cafeteria, when his fellow Wild Geese mates spotted him and saved his ass.

Then the bell rang, so I grabbed Walter and ran out of there while Pip's back was turned.

"Take it easy, Seras," he murmured, since I was practically dragging him down the hallway. I slowed my pace and mumbled something about how we were going to be late for detention which just made him stare at me. Argh.

The encounter with Pip just made my bad day worse, and by the time detention actually rolled around I was pretty depressed. Walter could probably tell, since he let me win every game of desk hockey we played, which was nice of him and cheered me slightly.

It's not that I really _want _to go to prom or anything, but thinking about it now, many of the other junior girls have already been asked by upperclassmen. All except me.

I bet Pip is going with a cheerleader. Those girls all have long shiny hair and brilliant teeth. I bet he wouldn't even _consider _someone with short frumpy bobs or six centimeter long canines (curse you Master and your stupid genes!)

As if just to mock my mood, it was raining when detention ended. Not like a mild drizzle or shower either, but full-on black-skied, British Isles downpour, with branches floating by like driftwood. Walter and I actually called a cab to get home, because there was no way I was biking back on that rusty, wheezing machine without falling and scraping at least part of my elbow off.

Hopefully, it won't be too waterlogged when I go back for it tomorrow or...

…Okay, I just noticed I spent nearly two hours writing in this thing and haven't even started homework yet. I should probably get on that if I'm hoping to sleep before Master begins "working." Looks like it's going to be another night with Fleshcrawl on repeat. FML

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Fleshcrawl is a popular German death metal band.


End file.
